Only Hope
by aleeeson
Summary: When Miley enters an abusive relationship, she hides everything in hopes for future happiness. But the only true happiness she'll learn to find is with someone else, the one person who knows her secret. The only one in the world who can save her.
1. One

**A/N: **Yay, a summer fanfic! I've been waiting and waiting to write one, and I fully intend to complete it. I think you guys will like this one. I hope it's a success! xD

full summary: When Miley enters an abusive relationship, she hides everything in hopes for future happiness. But the only true happiness she'll learn to find is with someone else, the one person who knows her secret. The only one in the world who can save her.  
Rated T+ for mature content/language. Oh, and tons of drama.

Btw, I know it's going to sound weird, but in this story, Miley is just Miley. No Hannah Montana. And Jake Ryan, her boyfriend, is just Jake. Plain and simple. No celebrity interventions; we're keeping it light here. Thanks. :D

Oh, and just as a heads-up, this is not a Loliver, but in some ways, it is. You'll seeeee!

The entire fanfiction is told in **Oliver's** point of view. Read & enjoy!

* * *

**Only Hope. **

_She_ was the one who asked me out. _She_ did it first.

I couldn't object. She was my best friend. No feelings for her whatsoever.

But she said she liked me. She said she really, really liked me.

And I couldn't say no. Like I've previously mentioned, she's my best friend. I convinced myself that, eventually, I would learn to love her too.

It's been three months; we're _this_ close to graduation, and nothing has changed. Lilly Truscott is still my girlfriend. Nothing's changed.

The truth is, I've been in love with someone else.

--

I'm cramming books into my locker when a familiar voice whispers into my ear, those loving arms wrap around my waist, pulling me in. That same silly smile. "Hey," says Lilly in a soft voice. She isn't the most affectionate girlfriend in the world I'll admit, but she does have her girly moments. "Two weeks left."

I turn to face her and grab hold of her hands. I'm trying the best that I can. "Yeah," I smile. "Well, first senior activities and SATs and all that crap, yes. Then graduation. Then summer. Then…"

"College," she breathes happily. Lilly's been so eager to get out of high school it's like watching the Energizer bunny. She plans to go to UC San Diego—ironically, where I've also been accepted. She wants to become a teacher, if not a professional skateboarder. That's her crazy dream. Me, I dream a lot smaller. I hope to major in photography or something different. I don't really want to be a doctor or a lawyer, as much as my mom hopes. I just want to be an Oliver.

I chuckle. "Okay, let's not think about that yet."

"Why?" she pesters. "It's almost here, Oliver. We're moving on to that new chapter in our lives. We can't depend on our families forever."

I don't think I ever depended on my mom and brother, my only family; at least not while I was growing up. Probably for a few money situations and my transportation needs. My mom's a cop, so she's basically never home and I have to make dinner for myself. My older brother Mason is in college with a lot of girlfriends. I guess that's pretty self-explanatory.

"I guess. I don't know. I just don't wanna…think about it."

Lilly gives me a concerned look. For the couple months we've been together, she's been doing that a lot. Before she never even cared, or at least acted like it. "Are you scared of leaving?" She squeezes my hand. "I'll be with you."

That's what I'm scared of the most. Being with Lilly when I know I don't love her. Hurting her, my companion, my best friend since kindergarten. Seeing her crumpled face when she finds out the disappointing truth.

I can't let that happen. I'm going to _love_ her, whatever it takes. On the outside, I'll be the best boyfriend I can be. The one Lilly truly deserves.

Inside, I'm freaking out of my mind.

I flash her a weak, but sincere, boyfriend-smile. "Yeah."

Lilly leans against my chest, not caring who's watching, not caring that the final bell has already rung and we're running late to third period. "Oliver, you love me right?" she asks, closing her eyes. Probably inhaling my scent—I'd put on Abercrombie aftershave this morning.

I have to force it out of my mouth. I have to really, really try, but it's not as easy as it seems. I tell her yes, that I love her with everything I have. I tell her I'm lucky it's her; and not some dumbass skank. I convince myself I truly mean it. I _am_ lucky, in a sense. It's not like I don't know Lilly at all—she's my best friend. She deserves to be admired, looked at, cared for, loved. I should be grateful. I should be the one giving her all those things, that attention, and more.

"Do you love me with all your heart?" Lilly whispers, as if what I've just told her isn't enough.

I give her a kiss on the cheek for her plain satisfaction. "With all my heart," I reply through my teeth.

--

Miley Stewart and I are alone driving home from school that day. Lilly has softball practice—which doesn't make sense to me; the season's pretty much over—and Miley needs a ride home. So I offer. Besides, Miley's my _other_ best friend, and I owe her a lot.

My car isn't the best. It's an old pick-up we got for a bargain at the used dealer by the freeway. I named her Sally. Her engine is busted, the gas mileage pretty much sucks, and going at only fifty miles per hour (if we're lucky) on the highway, she's the slowest thing I have EVER driven. She can be a pain in the ass, but hey, at least I have some way to get around.

Miley grumbles as we stop at an intersection. "Jeez Oliver, your car is a fricken' turtle."

I laugh. "Hey, don't complain. At least you're getting home. Which reminds me." I turn to look at her in the passenger's seat; brown eyes under a pair of huge white sunglasses, reddish hair tucked into a barrette, rays of sunshine bouncing off her light skin, giving her a rosy glow. Miley really is pretty, even when she's irritated. "Where's Jake today?"

She shrugs nonchalantly, pretending indifference. "He had an early gig with his band," she says. Like it's so easy. Jake Ryan is her boyfriend of almost a year. They've had obvious crushes on each other since middle school, so everyone all but died of relief when they finally got together. Lilly and I approved, but for me it was hard at first. Seeing Miley so involved with this one person, this guy she liked but hardly even knew.

Well, at least he was cute. In that weird, model-esque way girls seem to like.

"What an ass," I joke. "Leaving me with responsibility for you."

She snorts. "Hey, I'm not _that_ bad." Then she breaks out into a grin. She looks really cute happy. I smile alongside her.

We pull up to her huge house at the edge of Malibu beach and suddenly it feels like the whole ride was only two minutes. I feel claustrophobic sitting in the truck next to Miley, like the doors and windows are pulling in or something. I need to get out of there, but something is stopping me from leaving.

Miley takes out her makeup bag from her oversized purse and pulls out the car shade with its tiny mirror attached to the back. She applies eye-shadow and lipgloss, but I don't think she needs it at all. She looks beautiful the way she is, naturally.

I can't help but ask. "Going somewhere, Miles?"

She's so distracted with the eyeliner I have to clear my throat to get her attention. "Huh? Oh, uh…yeah, you could say that." She finishes her eyes, moving on with the Mary Kay foundation appliqué. It's like watching metamorphosis, but in reverse. Miley was already a butterfly to begin with.

I wait what seems like months before she finally finishes. She hops out of the truck, grabbing her backpack and makeup kit, and waves at me before slamming the door. "Thanks Ollie," she smiles, her Very Cherry lipgloss shimmering in the sunlight. "You're a great friend."

My throat swallowed. I faked a huge grin. "Yeah, _es no problemo_."

"Sorry." She shook her head. "_No habla espanol_." And then she shut the car door in my face. I watched her go up the front path, stepping over annoying stones and random garden gnomes like an expert navigator, all the way up to the door, where she fumbled with a ton of keys on a massive keychain. I laughed quietly to myself. She finally found the house key, grumbling with irritation, and was in.

--

I'd met Lilly in kindergarten, through our moms, who just happened to park next to each other in the Oceanview Elementary lot. I was a stubby little kid, short with a mess of hair, already starting to grow out. From what I remember, Lilly was a gorgeous little girl. Her hair, long and blonde, flowed all the way down to her waist. I remember being so fascinated with it. And she had nice green eyes. Back then, she wore a lot of pink skirts and dresses because she was her mom's doll. Once she gained some independence though, and after watching a lot of baseball games and going to skate competitions with her older brother, she went for her own style—a preppy-punk look, funky hats and skater shoes, shorter hair usually pulled back into a loose ponytail, colorful hoodies, you name it. She got into skateboarding from her brother Chase when she was ten. It soon became her passion, her hobby, and she was doing it _all_ the time, even when she was with me. It pretty much kept her sanity.

And then we met Miley.

Miley was the taller, skinnier Southern girl from Tennessee, with reddish/brown, medium-length hair and large, curious eyes. She moved in to Malibu at the start of our junior high years at Seaview, changing everything we'd once known. I mean, she arrived here with a bang, literally.

Lilly and I were down at the Malibu Surf Shop when we heard it. A loud yell, an ear-splitting _bang! _from the beach area. Everyone ran down to the water, wondering what had just happened, and Lilly and I—we were only eleven then—squeezed through the crowd to get a first-hand look. In the center of the mob was the lifeguard, Kelly, huffing and puffing against some stocky kid's chest. From what it all appeared, the kid was had drowned in the water and was knocked unconscious. His eyes were shut in a state of shock. He had mussy blonde hair and a shark tooth's necklace around his neck.

Miley—although we didn't know this yet—stood off to the side, hands over her eyes, crying. She was in a cute little one-piece with blue and white stripes, and her hair stuck to her head in a loose bun. Two older ladies surrounded her, comforting her. "My brudder!" she wailed. "Jackson!"

"Shh, shh," comforted one woman. "He's going to be fine. See, look what the lifeguard is doing!"

Just as she said this, Kelly leaned into the unconscious kid's face and did a mouth-to-mouth. I'd only seen this being done on TV shows, never in real life, so I was instinctively fascinated. Lilly on the other hand looked horrified. "What if he has like a disease?" she whispered beside me.

Miley was whimpering now. "Jackson!" she cried.

Kelly leaned in for another mouth-to-mouth CPR when the boy's eyes flung open. He was grinning from ear to ear. The crowd was stunned, and Kelly looked even more appalled. "WHOO!" the kid cried, jumping up and doing a little dance on the sand. "First kiss from a hot babe!"

He motioned for Kelly to come closer but her eyes narrowed. She was only 17, and she did make a pretty hot lifeguard, I must admit. "You stupid little brat!" she yelled, smacking the boy—Jackson?—across the face and stomping off. He grinned back like a proud mother. He was the first kid to ever try such a thing, so he got some respect (okay, and a couple of hates, mostly from Kelly's boyfriend) after that. Later I learned he was only thirteen years old. He was Miley's older brother.

"Jackson!" she screamed at him, kicking him in the shin. The crowd, with disappointed grumbles, was thinning but Lilly and I stayed for an after-show. Miley was punching her brother in the chest. "You idiot! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

He shrugged. "All in the technique, Miles."

"You are such an idiot. Dad is going to kill you when he hears about this."

"Hey, at least I got _something_ out of it." He laughed again. "Kelly was hot!"

Miley socked him in the arm and turned around, seeing both Lilly and I standing there, watching. I stared down at my sandals while Lilly made the first friendly move. "Hi," she said cheerfully. "I'm Lilly. Are you new here?"

She cocked her head to the side, startled at this gesture. "Yeah. I'm Miley, and this is my idiot brother Jackson. We're from Tennessee." She had a funny little Southern accent.

Jackson introduced himself to me. "Did you see that?" he asked, pumping my hand up and down so fast that it was turning red. "Brilliant, eh? Technique, dude, technique. Completely genius." His voice had a slight accent, deeper than Miley because he was older and had hit puberty. Still, it was weird to hear a guy from Tennessee say the word "dude." He seemed pretty cool.

"I'm Oliver," I said. "Oliver Oken."

Miley flashed me a smile. Her hair was all wet; she'd let it loose so it went down to her shoulders, a tangled heap of brown and red. She could use a real Malibu tan, but she'd get one within days. California's so freaking warm anyway.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Lilly and Oliver," she said. "But we have to get back. We're unpacking."

"Bummer," Lilly replied, as if she knew the feeling. She was being nice though. "Hope to see you guys soon…maybe Ollie and I can show you around Malibu sometime?" She looked around the wide beach, shielding away from the sun. "This is our turf."

_Turf? _I stared at her. Where the heck did she get a word like _turf_? Was this skater lingo?

Miley smiled and waved goodbye, pulling Jackson on the arm. She seemed strong, pulling her older brother like that. They trudged off through the hot sand and back onto the pier. Lilly turned to me once they had gone. "She seems cool," she said. "I don't know, I just felt like we're going to be great friends and I should talk to her. Might as well make a new friend anyhow."

"Yeah," I said dumbly, watching the familiar streak of red and blonde shift into the crowd of tourists and beachgoers. Kelly was at her post, grumbling under her bug-eyed sunglasses. Miley and Jackson were gone, lost in the sea of cultures, of beach bums and locals. They didn't have a circle around them; this time, they were _in_ the circle. They were a part of it. I understood. Inside they were foreigners, outsiders doing their best under the radar to get by and fit in. And who knows, maybe we had helped them that day. Maybe we were just a stepping stone in their new lives. Maybe that's how things were supposed to be. And by some miracle, it had happened. _We_ happened. And that was just the beginning.

**Please review! **I crave your feedback! (:


	2. Two

**A/N: **Zero reviews. Allllll I gotta say. If people are just going to favorite, and not actually give feedback, I'll pretty much stop the story since no one reads anyway ): Sorry, not trying to sound mean or anything. I just crave feedback! I hope it progresses as the story goes on.. & it will get better and better, I promise! :D

This is the first of the drama chapterrrrrs. Whoo I'm excited! Ha ha. Tell me what you think!

full summary: When Miley enters an abusive relationship, she hides everything in hopes for future happiness. But the only true happiness she'll learn to find is with someone else, the one person who knows her secret. The only one in the world who can save her.  
Rated K+ for mature content/language. Oh, and tons of drama.

* * *

**two. **

There's this party tonight in the Villa, this gated housing community based off a golf course, equally named The Villa. Some hot-shot Brent Myers is throwing it. Jake, being Brent's pal and all (actually, Jake Ryan is everyone's friend), is of course invited. Which means Miley gets to go. Which means Lilly gets to go, thus implying, _I _get to go. Whoop-dee-doo.

I've never been one for parties. My brother Mason has a lot whenever Mom's not around. I mean, if invited I'll go to them, sure, but I've never truly enjoyed one. I'm the type of person who would rather sit home and have a small get-together than go all out. Lilly is the same, which is why we compute so perfectly as best friends. Miley and Jake though; they're the partygoers, the adventure-seekers. I guess that's why we always kept them around, why Lilly was so eager to befriend Miley in the first place—they were so interesting. They always have stories to tell, drama to bitch about, people to see and things to do. They're the heartbeat to our deadness. They get us pumped and energized. Miley especially; she's a trip.

Don't get me wrong though—it's not like Lilly and I aren't fun people. We know how to have a good time. Lilly is more of a partier than myself, and when she does, she goes hardcore. She and Miley are like peanut butter and jelly. They stick together, they do everything together. They call each other "soul sisters," like Dionne Warwick and Aretha Franklin. Sisters with soul. Miley can turn anything boring into all-out excitement, while Lilly is the backup to their little fun team. They're practically joined at the hip. I can't blame them, though. They have similar likes and dislikes, and when they fight they make up within the day. They even have crushes on the same _guys_. You can't help but love them though—they make everyday an adventure. You just don't know what to expect next from those two.

"Par-tay!" Lilly cries, ducking into Jake's car (a sporty red Audi, brand new of course) when he and Miley had picked us up that night from Lilly's house. I follow, smiling weakly. I'm not in the best partying mood, but I would fake it. For Lilly's sake anyhow.

Jake grins, looking at us in the rearview mirror. He backs out of Lilly's driveway and speeds down the street, so fast I have to hold onto my stomach. Lilly is laughing and Miley singing along with the radio. Obviously everyone is in a Friday night mode, ready to party. Everyone but me.

"So, where we headed this time?" Lilly asks. She's sitting next to me in the backseat, adjusting her skirt.

"Ah…Brent's tonight," replies Miley, who is re-doing her makeup in the car shade mirror. "Remember the last time he had a party, Lill? He got so drunk he threw up all over his mom's new couch!"

Lilly laughs aloud and I turn my head, facing the window. Brent Myers is such an ass. He once slapped my butt with a towel in the guys' locker room during Gym. What an idiot. Remind me again why I'm going to this party?

The radio changes to an upbeat techno song, and Miley and Lilly start head-banging in their seats. Jake shifts lanes, glancing at me every now and then through the rearview. "Hey, Ollie, man," he says. I always feel weird whenever he calls me that—it's a nickname especially reserved for Miley and Lilly. "You okay back there?"

As if he's really concerned. Jake Ryan has never given a shit about me _ever_.

"I'm fine," I reply curtly.

Lilly stops head-banging and smiles. "Don't sweat it, Jake. Oliver's in a pissy mood tonight. He won't tell me why." She reaches over, patting my knee. She drums her fingers one by one. I don't say anything.

"Oh, Oliver." Miley's looking at me now, her lipgloss—the same one she'd used earlier that day—making crazy light patterns in my eyes. "He's like a girl. He has PMS and everything." She cackles in spite of herself.

I make a face. "It's not PMS. I'm just tired," I snap back.

"Jesus, don't get your ovaries in a bunch." Miley is laughing hysterically now, Lilly joining in with her. Some girlfriend _she_ is. She doesn't even stick up for me. And Miley is constantly making fun of me like I'm Jackson or something. I think it's because he went away to college—by some miracle, he got a scholarship and student loans—she has no one to tease now, so she takes it all out on me. I don't mind though, honestly.

They laugh and joke the rest of the ride to the Villa. Jake pulls up to Brent's like a typical movie star. Everyone surrounds the car as we go out. It's like a premiere or something. Jake grabs Miley's hand and I do the same with Lilly, making sure we all made it inside okay. Brent's house is a mansion, with crystal glass windows and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling over the spiral case stairs. The "foyer" (because upper-class society does not call it a living room) is wide and spacious, with tile flooring and a grand piano in one corner. (Hah, like Brent Myers would ever know how to play the piano.) We cross the foyer, through the giant kitchen and out back, where the real party is going on. Blake's younger brothers are barbequing and there are a couple people in the enormous, hotel-like pool. The music is on maximum volume and people are swaying all around the yard and pool. I notice Brent wearing a Kiss the Cook apron and hitting on some girls in bikini tops and shorts. He grins at Jake, just like everyone else.

"Hey, bro," he says, coming up to us and looking stupid in his apron. "Join the party!"

"Hey, man." Jake laughs and introduces everyone. "Yeah, so uh…this is Miley, you know. Her friend Lilly and Lilly's boyfriend Oliver."

Brent shakes hands with us. When he grips mine, I make sure to pinch him hard. Just for being an asshole. Oh, and slapping my butt in Gym.

Jake and Miley went to the bar for drinks and I lingered behind Lilly every time she saw someone she recognized and went up to say hi. She must've known at least half the people there. Lilly is incredibly sociable.

Later I'm sitting near the pool, watching Blake and Chris, two guys from my US Government class, arm wrestle in the pool. Then these girls climb on their shoulders and start a rowdy game of Chicken. One of the girl's bikini is coming loose; and I'm waiting to see what happens.

All of a sudden Lilly comes over, sitting beside me in a beach chair. She looks happily tired from dancing and greeting people. Socializing must be hard work. She hands me a Diet Coke—Lilly knows I'm not one for the alcohol—and asks, "How's it going?"

"Fine." I feel like the referee of this Chicken match; I've been watching it for a while now and not doing anything else. "Berlin's about to get tanked. And Heather's top is coming off."

"Ooh, interesting," Lilly laughs, and for the first time in a couple of days, I truly appreciate it. She isn't acting like a girlfriend right now, like a clingy, typical female, but more like a best friend—someone I need. More like the person I've known since kindergarten, not the one I've been dating for three months. "You wanna get out here?"

I'm more than happy to oblige. We get up, heading over to the trash cans to discard our drinks, and Lilly leads me inside the house to find Jake and Miley, wherever they are. This is the part of parties that I most hate. The middle and end. Everyone's pretty much wasted, couples are lying around and making out for all the world to see. A few tough guys at the pool table are occupied in a game involving pot. A group of sophomores are playing Quarters in the den. Everyone's either wasted or intoxicated by all the drug/alcohol smuggling. It's like walking through a zombie house; everybody's dead.

We'd walked into at least three bedrooms with five busy couples, none of them Miley and Jake. _This is pointless,_ I tell myself, _in a house this big, we'll never find them._ I just want to get out of here before the pot goes to my head. But Lilly's determined.

And then we hear familiar voices at the end of a hallway, behind a large closet. Angry, arguing voices. Lilly tells me to hush and leans against the door for better hearing. Curiosity getting the best of me, I lean in with her.

"What the hell were you doing, dancing with Brent?!" Jake's pissed off/heavily drunk voice. I knew it well. Sometimes he came to school that way.

"I wasn't! He came up to me and just—" Miley's pleading/totally sober voice. It broke my heart.

"SHUT UP!" Jake yells, and I hear a loud slam against one of the walls. "I saw you with him! He was all up in your face!"

"He was drunk! He came up to me and hit on me—you know how he is!" I can hear Miley sobbing in the background. I glance at Lilly, whose fist is in a ball and she looks so pissed off.

"I don't fucking care! You're _my_ girlfriend, Miley; you don't let anyone fucking do that to you!" Jake's words were slurred and didn't make any sense. He must have had a lot of booze. "You're…my…fucking responsibility!"

Another loud slam, a piercing yell, clothes and things falling off their shelves. My fists were clenched; my jaw tight. I had to stop myself from going in there and beating the crap out of him.

"Jake!" Miley screams. All goes quiet. Lilly and I are straining to hear.

A minute and a half later the closet door opens and Jake emerges, panting and out of breath. He doesn't notice Lilly and I standing there. He brushes off, his face red with fury, and disappears down the hallway. Miley comes out a few seconds later. Her eyes are bloodshot and she has a dark bruise on one side of her face.

"Hey guys," she says, breathless. As if nothing had happened.

Lilly hugs her friend. "Oh God, Miles, what the hell?"

"It's nothing," she replies easily, pushing the subject off. Her voice is tight. "Hey, um, you wanna get out of here?"

"Please, yes," I mumble, and the three of us head downstairs and out of the pot-smelling house. We don't ask about Jake. His red Audi is gone from the driveway, the tires leaving a hot trail on the pavement. We walk the ten blocks home in tired, understood silence. Sometimes silence, along with good friends, can be the most comforting thing in the world.

**R&R!, please & thank you :D**


	3. Three

**three.**

"Oliver, wake up! For goodness sake, Oliver, get your lazy ass up and at 'em!"

This is what I wake up to, the warm, loving sound of my mother—who is a full-time cop, by the way—yelling me to get out of bed. At 7 am on a Saturday morning. Could this be any more perfect?

"Mmmf." Somehow I manage to sit up, rubbing my eyes. My mother is leaning over the pile of dirty clothes I'd tossed in one corner of my room, clothes so old and worn out and smelly I hardly wore them anymore. Mom's nose is wrinkled in disgust.

"I didn't raise you to be like this, Oliver!" she yells. "You're a slob just like your brother!"

I say nothing, prepping for another one of her lectures. At first glance, my mom is always looking for an excuse to teach me another lesson. I've heard it over and over—"there are children in Zimbabwe that don't get to eat _at all_, so finish your brussel sprouts" or "why do you want 50 jeans? Since when did fashion get so _expensive_?" Jeez, my mom has a lot to learn. Apparently she's still stuck in the 70s.

"God, I used to tell Mason about this all the time…don't tell me you're following his example! You're not a child anymore! You should know how to take care of yourself, and I shouldn't be here reminding you…"

_Too bad you're never here to begin with, _says my brain on automatic.

"…and now you've got your friend waiting downstairs, and she's about to come up and see your place like _this_!" Mom rants, throwing her hands in the air and attempting to kick some clothes out of the way.

My eyes widen. "What?!"

Right on cue, the bedroom door opens, just as I'm frantically searching for a decent shirt. Lilly walks in, smirking at the sight of my half-nakedness. I freeze on the spot.

"Uh, hi?"

She busts up laughing. Miley strides in after. My shirt is STILL nowhere to be found.

Mom shakes her head. "Girls, please excuse Oliver's messiness. You know how boys are." I give her a hard glare, begging her to get out.

"Yeah, especially _this_ boy," Lilly giggles, sitting on my bed while I'm scrambling through my drawers. Miley turns her attention to the floorboards. I wonder if she was looking at me.

My mother smiles weakly. "Well, I've got work. I'll leave you three to whatever." She steps out, shutting the door. My mom isn't much of a people person. I breathe a sigh of relief, and then turn to reprimand Lilly.

"So thanks for the heads-up," I mutter sarcastically.

"Thanks for the no shirt," Lilly remarks with a sly smile, coming over and giving me a kiss on the cheek. "I thought you loved our surprise-visits. Miles and I just needed to get out of the house."

I pull on a yellow polo I'd found at the bottom of the sock drawer. Lilly watches with interest. Like she's never seen my body before…seriously, I'm not that great. I lift occasionally and I run the treadmill, if that helps. Other than that I'm like a joke. Body-builder? Fat chance.

I change the subject. "Miley…"

She looks up for the first time. Her eyes are swollen and red.

"Uh. Are you okay?"

She smiles weakly. "I'm fine. Just a little tired from last night, that's all."

I can't help but show some concern. She's my best friend, after all. I should show that I care. "Look, um, about what happened—" I begin.

And just like that, she's looking down again. As if whatever's growing on my wood floor is that interesting. I get the knots in my stomach. "Nothing happened, Oliver," she replies. "Jake was just partied-out and had too much to drink. It's no big deal."

Lilly sighs, twirling one of my basketballs on her finger. I never really mastered that yet. Lilly beats me at everything. "She's been saying the same thing all morning. Whatever happened, we just won't get it out of her. And anyway, like she says, it's no big deal. So we shouldn't worry our butts off over this." This surprises me. Lilly is, like, Miley's uber-best friend and she doesn't even sound too concerned right now. It strikes a nerve.

"Well, she just—"

"Oliver," Miley says suddenly, her voice sounding tired and strained. "Just drop it."

I blush from head to toe. "Okay."

Lilly goes to my bookshelf, glancing over my recent and ancient titles, both from school and for fun. Truth is, I'm not exactly a big reader, since I don't have a lot of time these days. But when I can, I'll pick up a really good book and get so into it, I could finish within the same day. So far my favorite has been part 4 of the _Harry Potter _series ("Goblet of Fire") and _The Catcher in the Rye_ by J.D. Salinger. Easy reads.

Then Lilly goes, "_Junie B. Jones_?" And gives me this sympathetic look.

I turn scarlet. "It's Mason's."

Miley actually laughs.

"Yeah, whatever," Lilly grins, and quickly scans the rest of my collection. We're silent for a while, Miley still staring at the floor and me chucking a bouncy-ball against my door. This is how it often is with the three of us—understood, preferred silence. And there's nothing wrong with that.

_When you look me in the eyes, and tell me that—_

Miley's ringtone. She glances at the caller ID, then picks up hesitantly after two-and-a-half rings. "Hello?" she says with a familiar, sweetish tone, and we instantly know that it's Jake.

His voice is so loud and husky and easy to comprehend. I can't help but follow the conversation. "Miles," he says simply on the other line. "Hey babe."

_Miles? He shouldn't call her "Miles." Only Lilly and I—and Jackson and Mr. Stewart—can do that._

"Hey," Miley replies. I wonder if she's angry with him because she isn't saying as much as usual.

"Babe, are you mad?" His speech isn't slurred, but I can tell Jake Ryan has a major hangover. "Look, I didn't mean it."

"I know." She's so quiet, it doesn't seem like Miley.

"Can I uh, can I make it up to you? Tonight?"

Lilly and Miley exchange all-knowing looks. It seems they have discussed this beforehand.

Jake's voice is soft and talking. "I'll take you to the Cantina. Best fish tacos in the world, babe. I'll make it up to you. I'm really sorry." Hah. Like fish tacos would solve anything.

"Just go for it," Lilly whispers. "If he pays. Free tacos!"

I put in a word of encouragement, even though I'm not so sure myself. "Say yes, Miley," I mumble.

Miley closes her eyes. I secretly hope she says no. She stands up, clutching the phone to her ear, and leaves the room. The last we can hear through the door is her cheery reply, "Yes Jake, of course!" And just like that, problem solved. All is forgiven.

Lilly sits next to me on the bed, takes my hand, and squeezes it. "God, they are _so_ cute."

I force a genial smile. "Definitely," I reply.

"It makes me wonder." Lilly's eyes grow large and curious. "Oliver, are _we_ cute?"

I chuckle. "You tell me."

"I'd say yes. But I'm not an outsider. We have to ask Miley."

"Why, what do you think Miley would say about us?"

She looks at me and grins, very cheesy but very Lilly. She tells me matter-of-factly, "I think Miley would agree. We are very cute indeed."

I hug my girlfriend and secretly hope the opposite.

--

Later around noon, the three of us are walking along the Malibu pier and eating Sno-Cones from Rico's. Lilly and Miley are engaged in some tiresome conversation about shoes, when at that exact moment I see Becca. Eating a pretzel and holding hands with some guy.

"Shit," I mutter, hiding behind a flagpole. "Becca-alert."

Lilly rolls her eyes. "Oliver. Get over it. She's just an ex."

"No, she's a _crazy _ex," I whisper back.

Becca Weller is my old ex-girlfriend from freshman year whom I'd liked, give and take, for about a week and a half. Our relationship lasted a little over a month. It was a messy break-up…the whole waterworks and everything, right in the middle of the main hall at school. She hated me for weeks. And the worst part? Right after we broke up, she was my assigned lab partner in Biology, my Physics consultant, _and _she had to grade all my English essays. It was the most awkward thing I'd ever had to experience.

"Well, would you look at that!" Lilly muses, watching Becca and her new eye-candy—Erik from AP English, I just realized—exchange a sweet kiss on the boardwalk. "She looks busy."

"That doesn't change how she feels about me," I mutter. Lilly giggles. I probably look so stupid right now, hiding behind a pole from an ex-girlfriend. So pathetic.

"Okay, look. Let's do this." Suddenly Miley grabs my arm, drags me into the spotlight, and grasps my hand, her warm fingers intertwining with mine just as Becca and Erik walk by. Becca's eyes widen and I force a tight smile. Her eyes travel down to our linked hands; Miley's grip tightens and my palms are getting sweaty. Finally Becca says nothing and walks off, practically pulling her new boyfriend away. And in a whole minute, it was over.

Miley lets go of my hand and sighs in relief. "Did you see that _look_ she was giving you?" she says in exasperation. "Like she wanted to…I don't even know! What an ass-fuck!" She grumbles and stomps off. I'm surprised; I've never heard Miley cuss like _that_, so pissed and all. Almost like she's jealous.

"You know," Lilly says quietly, coming from nowhere, "you have a _girlfriend_ that could have done the job. And way better, if I may say so myself."

I look down at my hand, now empty but pulsating with warmth from Miley's fingers. It was hard to believe her fingers were just there, locked with mine, only a second ago. It feels unreal.

"She just kind of grabbed me," I say quietly, watching Miley a distance away on the boardwalk. She's on her phone again, talking to who knows what. She still looks frustrated.

"Yeah, I know." Lilly doesn't say anything. I can feel her watchful eyes on the back of my neck. This is awkward.

For a long time we're quiet, thinking about other things and about each other, but in different ways. I wonder what Becca's doing now with Erik. I wonder what her initial reaction was to seeing Miley and I, well, _together_. If that's what you could call it.

Miley comes back from her conversation. She doesn't look so mad. "Jake is waiting by the Surf Shop," she says to Lilly and I. "Jackson just called me right now. I…I should go." She and Lilly exchange hugs—Lilly whispers something like advice in Miley's ear, making her laugh—and I extend my arms for a heartfelt, sincere hug.

"Thanks back there," I say quietly. "For, you know."

"She's a bitch," Miley smiles and I can tell she's come back. She's herself again. "Stay away from her, okay?"

"Hah, definitely."

She walks off the pier into the waiting arms of Jake Ryan, her leading man, and once more leaving Lilly and I alone in the dust.

* * *

**WOW! Okay, I have to be honest here. I was actually going to stop the story; I wasn't getting any feedback at all. But then, suddenly, just as I'm coming back from vacation in Seattle/Canada, BOOM! NINE REVIEWS! Ahhhh that's just incredible (: I hope that means more success for the story. I hate to update without knowing how I'm doing in the first place; what should be replaced, what needs to be done. So for those first nine who reviewed, THANK YOU so much. You all made my day! I replied to all of your reviews. And special thanks to Fenroar Greyfront and snickers3339 for the extra advice; you guys are ahhhmazing. xD Any comments, advice, suggestions for the story, feel free to give. I appreciate all opinions and criticism. **

**Well, gotta jet! (I'm suddenly hungry.) Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I know I know, it was rather short and I apologize. But I'm glad the story's getting back on its feet, now that we have some READERS. So, once again, thank you and sayonara! I have a feeling this A/N is getting a bit long, haah. :)**

**Btw, I LOVE Junie B. Jones. She's so cute! (Oliver thinks so too!) Hahah. Oh, and I'm still recovering from that Mitchel Musso shirtless scene. Mmmmmm ;D  
**


	4. Four

**four.**

The weekend passes uneventfully. Monday comes, it's the second to last week of school, and I find myself having "bonding time" with the last person in the world that I would ever want to bond with—Jake Ryan.

In English Literature class, Ms. Simmons decided to torture us with a final end-of-the-year project. "It will be due in exactly a week from today," she had said, striding down the rows of desks as if the classroom is her runway. "You will each be assigned one partner among your classmates and your assignment will be to get to know this person like the back of your hand. I mean personal life, family life, relationships, likes and dislikes, hobbies, etcetera. You will document on video everything you have learned—and be creative on this—and next week each of you will present. There should be one video for every student about one other person, their project partner. And don't worry class; I will be the one choosing your partner."

The class groans. Great. It's so like Simmons to pull this kind of last-minute crap on us, just when we're ready to get out and graduate. And another thing: no one in my class is _that_ worth getting to know. No offense. I mean it like nobody is that interesting, except maybe Brenda Petersen; she's kind of cute. In my second period English Lit. class, you got your typical jocks with their typical bitchy girlfriends; you got your punks and smartasses and wannabe gangsters ("wangstas," we call them); and then you got your ordinary, lay-low crew in the back of the class, the kids who prefer staying under the radar. That would include me.

Definitely "staying under the radar," however, does not mean being paired up with the most popular guy in school. The guy you both envy and really, really hate, all at once.

No, that's not luck. That's deep shit, excuse my language.

"Ollie!" Jake cries, pounding my back with his open palm. "This is great! We already know a lot about each other! This'll be a cinch!"

I grit my teeth. "Oh yeah," I mutter. "Piece of cake."

That afternoon I get into his Audi and we go to Miley's house to start the film project. Lilly has another game and since we don't really want to go to each other's place—hell, like I would ever let a guy like _him_ inside my house—we turn to Miley instead. Besides, with her corny humor, she would make things less awkward anyway.

And Jake wants to see her. He's been kissing up lately since Friday night. He goes to her house everyday, takes her out on surprise dates, and basically goofs off just to get her laughing. So I guess things between them are okay again. The Saturday night date must've gone well.

We pull up to Miley's street and she comes out running in her pretty blue sundress, hair damp from showering. She kisses Jake passionately and I bite my tongue hard to keep from throwing up. The way Jake kisses is just…nasty. "Babe," he says, grinning. "I missed you."

Psh. They just saw each other an hour and a half ago, making out in the quad area at school. Big deal.

"I missed you too," Miley croons. At last, she notices me and gives me a huge, awkward hug. "Oliver. What brings you here?"

I pull out my compact video camera, last year's Christmas gift from Grandpap. Finally, amid crossword puzzles and giant handy calculators, something I could actually _use_. "Video project," I reply. "English Lit."

"Fucking stupidest shit in the world," Jake remarks. "Simmons is such a bitch. She always pulls this last-minute shit on us, just for her pleasure. I swear."

Miley smiles. "What's the assignment?"

I open my mouth to answer but Jake does first, thank you very much. "We have to learn everything about—" Suddenly he stops mid-sentence because his cellphone rings, some modern metal song. He takes it out of his pocket, checking the ID. "Hold that thought." He moves like fifteen feet away just to answer the call.

"Busy guy," Miley says, shaking her head.

"Yeah." I cough once. "Uh, the project is to get to know everything about your assigned partner. I don't know what the purpose is, really. But we have to make a video on it by next Monday."

"Ooh, that should be fun!" Miley is staring out in the distance, lowering her head and squinting at nothing in particular. "I mean, you already know Jake, so it should be relatively easy. Plus he's a very cool guy."

"Oh yeah," I mumble sarcastically under my breath. "Cool as ice."

"What was that?"

"Uh, nothing. Sorry." I look down at my high-top Converse shoes, feeling stiff and weird. "So um, I guess Jake is too busy with his phone call to start the project. I need, like, an interview…"

Miley bites her lip. I can tell she feels just as awkward as I do. She looks over at her boyfriend, who is deep in conversation, yelling and making faces and whatnot. Pissed-off Jake Ryan. "Yeah…um, how about we go someplace else and I'll tell you everything I know about Jake, just so you have some background info? There's a lot in his book, actually." She chuckles, obviously knowing something I don't.

_Finally,_ says my brain automatically. _Alone time with Miley._

"Yeah!" I reply, a bit too eagerly. "I mean, s-sure. That'd be great."

We go through the front gate into Miley's backyard. Her yard is HUGE, let me tell you. She has a swimming pool and a basketball court on one side, a built-in barbeque pit, and in one corner there's a deep hole for the fish pond Robby Ray is building. The yard is spotless and practically unused; hardly anyone ever goes in there unless Miley is throwing a party of some sort. But today, we go there to talk. The weather is light and airy—a cool breeze refreshes our faces as we sit down together on the bench, ready for catching up.

"So," Miley begins, her knuckles doing a wave in her hands. "Shoot."

"Okay," I begin, pressing the record button on my camera. Miley's face looks nice and even onscreen, but she's more beautiful in the natural light, hitting her face just perfect at an angle. Her hazel eyes stand out the most. "So, uh. I need to know his family life."

She sits complacent on the bench, twisting and wringing her hands in thought. "Well, Jake's a very fun-loving guy. He has two little sisters, Tess and Aimee, that he loves very much. He talks about them, like, all the time. His parents are separated and he lives with his dad in Beverly Hills. Oh, and they have a German shepherd, Kinko. Apparently there's a crazy story behind that name, but Jake won't tell me." She grins.

_I bet I can guess,_ I think, shaking my head.

"What's his personality like? Any special hobbies?" I feel like this is an interview for _Extra!_. Stupid, dumb, retarded questions.

"He's caring. He's very affectionate, and he isn't afraid to show off in public, I guess. Sometimes he can have a huge temper. And sometimes he acts like a big, spoiled-rotten baby. When he wants something, he usually gets it. And even though it might take some time, he'll do everything he can to make sure he has what he wants."

I raise an eyebrow. "And what does he want?" I ask, slowly focusing the camera on Miley's face.

"I don't know." She shrugs. Her voice gets very soft. "Me, I guess. But he _has_ me."

I swallow hard. I don't know what to say, but I have to think of a question fast before Jake returns and ruins everything. "Um…is there anything about Jake that you wish you could change? Any bad traits or qualities? Anything you would give to take back?"

She looks down at her feet and replies, very carefully, "There is nothing I would change about him. Ever. He's a great boyfriend and an loving, caring person. He's perfect in every single way."

I just look at her. "And?"

"And that's it." She glances upward, motioning for me to shut off the camera. Her eyes are dark and impassive. "We're done. Interview over."

--

That night I get an IM from Jake.

**the jakester90210 (8:41:03 PM): **What did Miley say about me?

**Smokin Oken (8:41:14 PM): **Huh?

**the jakester90210 (8:41:20 PM): **I know you went in the back with her and asked her things. What did she say?

**Smokin Oken (8:43:14 PM): **Uh, just the basics. She told me you have two little sisters and your parents are divorced. That kind of stuff.

**the jakester90210 (8:43:46 PM): **And? Anything else?

**Smokin Oken (8:43:56 PM): **Nothing I remember.

**Smokin Oken (8:44:10 PM): **Is there any reason you're interrogating me?

**the jakester90210 (8:45:03 PM): **Nah. Just wondering.

**Smokin Oken (8:45:21 PM): **Why don't you just ask her, if you're so curious?

**the jakester90210 (8:45:32 PM): **Forget it. Forget I asked.

**Smokin Oken (8:45:49 PM): **Uh, ok. Are we still filming tomorrow? Miley's?

**the jakester90210 (8:46:16 PM): **Idk. Maybe. I might have things to do. We'll see.

_Yeah, we'll see all right. _I breathe out hot air and close the message.

--

Jake doesn't show up the next filming afternoon. He claims he has a modeling gig to do in Hollywood. Miley takes the bait, easily. Sometimes girls are so dumb when it comes to puppy love.

"I guess it's just us two again," I say, trying not to sound hopeful. We're sitting at her kitchen island today, me with the camera and Miley at the counter making Jell-o. "Do you have anything else to tell me?"

She's silent for a moment. She sounds distant and unfocused. "Huh? Oh, uh…yeah. Right." She opens the fridge and pours a cold glass of water. "So um, what?"

"Jake," I remind her, shaking my head.

"Oh. Right. Jake." She pours the red Jell-o mix into a bowl and heats the glass of water in the microwave to boiling point. Her hands are shaking wildly.

I put down the camera and go over to where she's standing. I help her pour the rest of the Jell-o mix and press the start button on the microwave. "Miles. Are you okay?" I ask, putting a friendly hand on her shoulder.

She looks at me. Her large, curious eyes are welling with tears.

"Miley…"

And then she's hugging me, throwing her arms around me and sobbing wildly while I'm just standing there trying to convince her everything's okay. When I know perfectly well it isn't.

"Miley. Miley." I give her a tight hug and we sit down on the couch. "Tell me what's wrong."

She cries into an orange pillow, probably something Jackson once farted on. "That's just it Oliver—I don't even know why I'm crying!" She wails again. Her shoulders are shaking and I have to rub them to make it stop. This is scaring me.

"Did something happen? Is it Jake?"

"I…" She stops for a second, calming her breath. Her mood changes a lot. "I don't know."

"Miles, you have to tell me."

She looks away. "Get Lilly."

"No," I say strongly, holding her down on the couch. Miley clutches the poor orange pillow. "Lilly could be anywhere right now. Just tell me what happened."

"Oliver, god!" She wriggles out of my grasp and tosses the pillow at my head. "Can't you see I'm—I don't want to talk to you right now!"

Hurt and fear stabs my heart. I look quickly away so she can't see my expression. I take out my cellphone. "I'll call Lilly right now, okay?" I walk out of there as fast as I could. I don't want Miley to see my hurt. To see _me_ hurt. Because I know I'm the guy; I should be strong. For her.

Lilly arrives in a matter of minutes, panting out of breath from her softball game. "What the hell happened?!" she asks me, leaping through the front door towards her best friend.

"I don't know," I say truthfully. "She wouldn't tell me."

I wait in the living room, flipping uninterestedly through the TV channels while Miley and Lilly talk upstairs in Miley's room. Their conversation is getting long, not that I can hear anyway. Not that Miley would _want_ me to. I'm about to stand up and walk home when Jackson comes crashing through the door.

"All-i-verrrr!" he cries, rustling my hair and grinning. Jackson Stewart is probably the happiest, most joyful thing I'd seen all day. An old friend. Seeing him again gives me comfort. Besides a weekend of work at the Malibu Surf Shop, he's never around anymore. College busies everyone's schedule.

He raises an eyebrow at the TV—I'd stopped flipping at the _Women's _ channel. There were two women in the bathroom holding large maxi pads and looking seriously confused. "Uh. The WE? Wow, Oliver. Did you just suffer a breakup or something?"

I turn red. "No…still with Lilly." I quickly change to ESPN.

Jackson sits down on the couch. "Ah, I see. How've the two of you been, eh?" From out of nowhere he gets out an orange and starts peeling it.

"We've been okay," is all I can say.

Jackson doesn't even have to look at me to already know what I'm thinking. It's part of this "guy code" thing. College must have made him either really smart, or really social. Or just socially smart. Either way it's so unlike him. He can read me like an open book.

"You're diggin' someone else." Okay, so he's right. But I don't like the way he says it.

I raise an eyebrow. I don't want to give in too easily.

"Ah." Jackson scratches his chin, orange juice dribbling down his arm. "Let me guess. You're with Lilly just because she's your best friend, and you don't wanna see her hurt. But really, you like someone else. Is that it?" He looks at me with defiance.

I give in. Okay, so that was way too easy. There isn't a point hiding anything from Jackson when he can see right through me anyway. I'm like transparent glass. Crystal clear and easily broken.

"Yeah. Maybe. Yeah." I bite my lip, feeling ashamed. When you say things aloud, or hear someone say them for you, everything seems so harsh and real. "I'm so stupid."

"Nah, you're not." Jackson puts his feet on the coffee table, deep in thought as he peels the rest of the orange. "I once dated a girl in high school. Her name was Celine. She had large brown eyes and an even bigger bust."

I roll my eyes. "Jackson. Where is this going?"

He grins. "Well. Celine was dating me just to make the guy she liked jealous."

"Ouch." I put my hand over my heart, but I mean it. "That's gotta hurt."

"Well, you know what they say." Jackson takes a bite of orange. Juice drips down his chin and face. "Love is pain. But you gotta fight back."

"What'd you do?"

He looks at me and I'm instantly reminded of that first time at the beach, when he'd been "drowning" and tried kissing the lifeguard. His boastful smile; those gleeful eyes. That proud, confident look on his face when he'd been kissed; even after the lifeguard slapped him and stomped away. He'd gotten what he wanted. "I told her to get out of my face. I walked away first," he says seriously. "And I ended it to save myself the humiliation. She got her guy, but they broke up after a day and she was hurt. The end."

I sigh. "It's not that easy. I can't just break it off with Lilly. I like her too much."

"But you're hurting her by hurting yourself. You like her, but you don't _love_ her."

I just look at him like he's alien. "What are you now, Dr. Phil?"

Jackson laughs lightly. By now, the orange is halfway finished, peel all over the floor and couch. "Phil _Jackson_, coach of the Los Angeles Lakers," he corrects me. "Hah. But seriously, Oliver. You need to step back and look at what you're doing before you lose more than you can handle. Before people get hurt."

_Hurt_. That's such a strong word. No one is going to get hurt, not on my watch.

But Jackson Stewart knew more than he thought.

* * *

**Ooh. Foreshadowing? We'll have to wait and see ;D**

**I'm glad a lot of you enjoyed the Miley/Oliver handholding scene with Becca last chapter! That was one of my favorite cutesy parts too.. of course, there's more to come! Or IS there? Hahaha..!**

**I know the story seems to be moving slow but I'm doing a lot of re-editing and, at the same time, hoping for more feedback. And then I'll update a lot faster, promise! (:  
**

**Well.. I don't have much to say in this author's note except.. please REVIEW, & honestly let me know what you think! The best reviews I get are the long, blabber-y ones where I can tell the reader's initial reaction of the chapter. I LOVE those, instead of just "That was great! PMS!" or something.. so yeah, you know what to do! Thanks again and let me know what ya'll think! (imitating Miley) Haha.. okay, didn't work. xD I'm FAR from a Tennessee accent, gah..**


	5. Five

**five.**

Miley and I are doing the project again, this time at my house. Jake's too busy to care. He probably has more important things to do than this stupid project—like he'd want to get to know my life anyway. It's not like I'm a very interesting person. I sleep, I eat, I urinate, I like girls, I live. That's basically all there is to it.

Miley holds the video camera, zooming into my face. We're in my room, the majority of the mess crammed into one corner in a lazy attempt to "clean" it. I had clothes on the floor, a couple of basketballs, and something that resembled goop growing on my drawer. Okay, I'm not _that_ bad of a slob, but I am male. I slack off too.

"This…is Oliver's room," Miley says into the speakerphone, her voice going from faded to echoing. "At first glance, you can already tell a lot about him—that he likes basketball, wears a lot of clothes, and isn't too neat. And over there on the dresser is a picture of him and his girlfriend, Lilly, who also happens to be my best friend." Miley focuses the camera on the framed picture of Lilly and I. It's from eighth grade, at promotion. We're in our blue cap-and-gown and my arms are around Lilly and she's making bunny ears behind my head, both of us grinning like idiots. We were best friends then, just best friends. I love that picture like crazy, so I always keep it as a reminder that some things, through the years, still haven't changed.

Miley now moves to my crummy corner bookshelf. She goes through the titles manically. "Let's see, _To Kill a Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_…"

I laugh for clarification. "I don't read much. When I have time."

She turns to me. "What's your favorite book?"

"_The Catcher in the Rye. _You?"

"We're interviewing _you_ now, Oliver. This is all about you."

"Well maybe I don't like me," I snap back, jokingly. "I want to know your favorite book."

"I'm not much of a reader."

I smile. "Too busy of a social life, huh?" I grab the camera from her hands, adjusting the lens and changing the settings. I focus strictly on Miley.

She shakes her head. "I have no social life."

"Yeah, right. You're Jake Ryan's girlfriend. Number 1 Enemy."

"Yeah, but…" She trails off.

"But what?" I ask.

She starts to rant. I could feel it coming; that building sense of Miley prepping herself for a speech. Or an epiphany, a self-realization. She's been having those lately and then telling us about it. "I may have an active social life and a popular boyfriend and everything I could ever want, but I'm not…" She leaves me hanging. I hate it when she does that.

"You're not _what_?"

She glares at me, clearly in the middle of a revelation. "Turn the camera off. I'm not happy."

This comes as a surprise. Miley can be a lot of things, a raging sea of emotions, but I know her better. She makes the best with what she has. She takes life by the horns and she lives it out. She isn't afraid of anything (except her brother, but that's reason enough). She usually just goes with the beat. So hearing she's unhappy with herself scares me shitless. And that's a lot of S's full of shit.

"I don't get it. You're pretty, you have a popular boyfriend, you have an active social life, and you're not _happy_?!"

She sighs. "I knew I shouldn't have told you this."

"Told me what?!" I cry, pressing the end record button on the video camera. "You haven't told me a thing!"

"You don't understand anyway. You never will." She gets up, collecting her things, ready to leave. Her car is parked, waiting, in my driveway.

"Maybe if you _told_ me, Miley, I could."

She takes a deep breath. "It's complicated," she replies, her voice flat. She turns and looks at me; what a shock. "Look, we'll finish this tomorrow? Bring your camera to school; maybe we can get something done during first lunch. I gotta run. I have to pick up Lilly from softball."

I mumble lamely, "That's my job."

"It's okay…you're already here…I'll just pick her up and we have plans for Movie Night anyway." Her voice is so quiet. I feel like I hit a nerve, but really, it's fear. She hides her face, turning away. "So I'll see you tomorrow, Oliver."

She opens the door and shuts it in my face.

God, sometimes I just wanna punch that girl in the stomach.

--

Miley had her first serious relationship during freshman year. I remember this because the guy was such a dweeb, and yes, I mean _dweeb._

His name was Josh—she really seems to like guys with the 'J' letter name, I just noticed that—and he was from her Spanish 1 class. He was her language and conversation partner, the stuck-up gorgeous guy from the basketball team, with the cool spiky hair and muscles. Bonus points on Miley's scoreboard.

I don't even know how they wound up together. One minute Josh was translating sentences with her; the next they were sharing cheese nachos from the same plate. Their relationship was a lot like Miley's current one with Jake—an ongoing, unsteady teeter-totter. Up and down, left and right. They never stay balanced, and in those rare moments when they do, nothing seems right.

One time during lunch we were all at the same table; Lilly and I on one side, Miley and Josh sharing nachos on the other. It was one of the couple's rare "balanced" moments. They were in full lovey-dovey mode, it made Lilly and I want to puke.

"More cheese, Milly?" Josh cooed, holding out a half-eaten tortilla chip. He often called Miley "Milly" as a lame excuse for a pet name. As if her _real_ name isn't different enough.

Miley grinned at him. "No, I'm fine, Joshie. But thank you."

Josh smiled and they exchanged another cheesy (literally) kiss. Lilly, unable to withstand it, immediately excused herself to the bathroom. I glared furiously at her for just _leaving_ me there with those two lovebirds. Yeah, thanks a lot, Truscott.

Miley was halfway though another nacho when she eyed her boyfriend's plastic cup. "Josh!" she cried, shocked. "Your Coke is almost empty—here, I'll go get a refill!" She whisked it away and bolted toward the drink dispensers in the cafeteria before either of us could respond.

Yeah, thanks Miley. I just _love_ being ditched. It happens all the time.

When it was just the two of us, Josh just looked at me, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes, covering half of one. Honestly, I don't see how girls think he's attractive. My hair can get pretty long, but at least I don't look like a walking _bush_. Josh has a couple of tree leaves on the side—hence the name "walking bush"—and some lost pens in that hair. Heck, maybe he's hiding an animal in the bush.

Josh licked his lips. He should really get Chapstick; it works much more effectively. "So, Oliver. What's good in the hood?"

What is this guy now, P. Diddy? The Snoop? He's all-American! Does he even know what "the hood" _is_?

"Uh, nothing really," I replied. My voice was weird and deep back in freshman year, one of those post-puberty side effects. "You?"

His eyes averted to the back of the cafeteria, where Miley was making light conversation with some friends from class. She's so social that way. "Miley," Josh said her name slowly, taking his time with each syllable. "Mm. She's such a babe."

I had no idea what to say to that, so I didn't.

"God, if she didn't look the way she does"—he gave his girlfriend the once-over (who DOES that? Who gives their own boyfriend/girlfriend the 'once over'?!) and smiled cockily—"I wouldn't even give her a second thought."

I stared at him flatly. What an ass-fuck. I could have punched him right there.

"But she's such a babe. She's so _hot_. And she's all mine." Josh smiled at this thought and took another bite of steamy nachos, resulting in yellowy cheese all over his face and sides. I decided to say nothing. I didn't want to get involved in any kind of drama…but the truth is, I was pissed. This stupid Josh guy had no right to talk about Miley that way. He had no right to claim her and bring her down so _negatively_, to paint an obscene image of her in his stupid, fourteen-year-old head. I know a lot of guys tend to think this way (I admit, I had a short phase, but that's over with), especially at a certain age, and Josh was no exception. But, god, he was such an asshole.

What did Miley possibly _see_ in this guy, past his good looks?

For Chrissakes, he had CHEESE all over his face!

Just then, Miley came back from her social refill extravaganza, Josh's new Coke in hand. She smiled and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. "Here you go."

"Mm, thank you," he laughed, and took a sip of his drink. He immediately spit it out, soda flying all over the lunch table and on my prized MC Hammer shirt. "Miley, what the fuck?! I said _regular_ Coke, not Diet!"

I was so ready to tell him off. He hadn't specified what _kind_ of drink he wanted; it wasn't Miley's freaking fault. She didn't deserve this yelling. She just looked at him, eyes widening in fear. She'd never seen him this angry before. And over a stupid drink.

"I-I'm sorry!" she finally sputtered. "I didn't check the label…I'm sorry!"

"Dude, look what you did to my shirt!" I interjected, pointing at my soda-stained top, but neither of them seemed to listen or care. Maybe Josh didn't know who the great MC Hammer was, that ass-fuck.

All of a sudden he stood up, fuming. "You know I can't drink this stuff!" he cried, attracting attention. "Not if I'm gonna make it alive on the team! Jeez Miley, you _know_ that! You just don't think sometimes!"

Miley's eyes were watering with tears, but she quickly wiped them away. Lilly was just coming back from the bathroom.

There was an awkward silence. I had to clench my fists and grip the table to hold myself still; I wanted to hurt him so badly. Even Lilly was starting to look pissed, and she didn't know what the hell was going on. Finally Josh sat down, calming his short-tempered breaths. I guess he'd been taking an Anger Management class or something because he kept mumbling, "Breathe in. Breathe out. Let it go, just let it all go." And he was calm.

Miley was still trembling—Lilly supportively held down her shaking shoulders—and Josh apologized, suddenly all-gentleman. "No, look, it's not your fault. Everyone screws up once in a while. It's okay Miley. I get it. You aren't perfect. But in my eyes, you _are_. You're everything perfect and so much more." What a dumb line; did he get that from a movie or something? He came around the table, wrapping gentle arms around Miley's waist. She looked confused at first, but she soon took the warm embrace as a good sign. She hugged him back and all was forgiven.

I also hate how whenever Miley enters a new relationship, whenever there's an argument it doesn't take much to win her forgiveness. The Miley _I _know isn't like that. She's like a fiery cracker; snap, crackle, BAM. She knows how to handle things, and she can negotiate fairly. She doesn't normally give in so easily.

Boyfriends are her only excuse for losing her mind. I guess love is really like that, huh? Makes you crazy, makes you do stupid, foolish things, makes you want to tell everyone in the world. When you're in love, you fully give in your heart, your mind, and your soul, and in return there is an incredible, unexplainable feeling, like having the butterflies times a thousand.

Not that _I_ would know, of course. I've never been in love that way before.

--

**LongtimeLilly (11:23:42 PM): **Oliver, hi!

**Smokin Oken (11:24:14 PM): **Oh hey, Lills. How was Movie Night?

**LongtimeLilly (11:24:25 PM): **It was good. Miles & I watched _Disturbia._

**Smokin Oken (11:24:31 PM): **Thriller?

**LongtimeLilly (11:24:59 PM): **Yeah. Plus Shia LaBeouf is so HOT.

**Smokin Oken (11:25:10 PM): **I knew it. I just can't compare to a guy with the last name LaBUFF.

**LongtimeLilly (11:26:01 PM): **:) Sorry Oliver. He's too irresistible.

**Smokin Oken (11:26:34 PM): **Nah, I get it. You don't want to be seen dating a guy with _Junie B. Jones_ in his bookshelf anyway.

**LongtimeLilly (11:26:49 PM): **Hey, hold up! I LOVED that series when I was a kid!

**Smokin Oken (11:27:05 PM): **You mean you _read_?!

**LongtimeLilly (11:27:21 PM): **Hey! That was uncalled for!

**Smokin Oken (11:27:44 PM): **:p If it helps, I loved that series too. And I'm a GUY.

**LongtimeLilly (11:27:58 PM): **Teehee. I knew it. I guess that's what makes us so compatible, Oliver. We like the same things. We match. :)

**Smokin Oken (11:28:30 PM): **Yeah, I guess. Maybe.

* * *

**I know, I know, I know. Long time no update D: Seriously guys, I'm sorry. I've been busy as heck, with school coming up in less than two weeks, I've got to cram all my summer homework in while last-minute shindigs (hangouts, haha) with my friends. Gah. I hate the end of summer.. it comes too quickly.**

**So.. what do you think? The chapter isn't as long as I'd hoped, but I had to make do with what I have. I'm getting tired of the IM-ing (like this is _Gossip Girl _or something), but it's an important element to the story. I don't even know WHERE I got "LongtimeLilly" from. Maybe it just.. sort of rhymed? Or maybe because she's in it for the LONG RUN with Oliver, ahaha. Noooo! Well, we'll see. :) It's sort of sad how she feels so compatible and lucky with Oliver, when he doesn't feel the same way. And she's totally oblivious. gah, that stinks. **

**The Josh guy? Jerkhole.**

**And ****Miley, Miley, Miley. Confusing girl, hm? She's just a wide range of emotions; I don't even know where to begin. And Oliver's just trying to help her out, to understand her, but she's not letting him. Poor guy. **

**I was watching the Teen Choice Awards yesterday on channel 11 and I noticed how comfortable Miley dresses.. like, she wore a Rolling Stones t-shirt and all that. Like it wasn't an awards show, just a hangout. I like how her style is more comfort rather than fitting. And she keeps that huge smile plastered on her face while hosting.****.. Oh, but I didn't like how M&M Cru won. It seemed rigged, just because Miley's _in_ it. Yeah, sorry... I was all for the ACDC. They had professional dancers, like Chris Brown and the Jabbawockeez. Their Youtube comeback video KICKED ASSSS. &Adam Sevani's such a cutie. ;D**

**Well, let me know your thoughts! BLABBERY REVIEWS, guys :D Until next time!**


	6. Six

**six.**

**(this chapter rated M for language.)**

There's a small Wednesday get-together tonight at Jimmy Flayhive's house, near the Villa where Brent's party had been. I've said this before: parties I'll go to (when obligated), hangouts yes, but get-togethers I will not. Mainly because a "get-together"—especially one hosted by a person with high status on the social ladder—usually turns out to be a huge, all-out party. With cocktails and everything. And I'm not so big on those. Like I've said, I'm pretty simple. I don't need huge parties and flashing lights _all_ the time.

Since Miley and Lilly are invited, I have an obligation to go, as Lilly's date and everyone's designated driver on the way home. Which means I have to stay sober the whole night. Not a problem, but it kind of sucks when you're in a house full of intoxicated, crazy _drunk_ teenagers and you're the only one left with your sanity.

"You two go ahead," I tell them over the phone. "I don't feel like going out tonight."

Lilly sighs exasperatedly and Miley says nothing. The two have been over at Miley's for a couple of hours now, getting ready for the party. "Oliver, it's senior year," Lilly tells me. I can't count how many times she's mentioned that. "Do I have to remind you we're graduating in a week and a half? This is one of the last get-togethers we'll ever have in our high school career, and you're skipping out! You can't honestly have better things to do."

"I have homework," I lie. Actually, I'd finished everything a couple of hours ago. It was getting surprisingly easier, now that the anticipation over graduation was building. Teachers are no longer piling us with assignments; finally they understood we'd been stressed long enough.

"You do not!" Lilly cries, and I hear the sound of drawers being closed and opened. "God Oliver, you're such a killjoy! Get ready; we're picking you up in ten."

"I'm not going," I reply simply. I'm laying on my bed staring at the ceiling, wondering if I should be doing something productive. Maybe clean my room? Anything to just get me off my ass. Maybe I _should_ go to that party.

I hear Lilly grumbling over the phone, the sound of more clothes being tossed, and a blow-dryer shutting off. Then Miley's voice; a strange, refreshing sound over the line—it felt like I hadn't heard her voice in forever. She mumbled something to Lilly and grabbed the phone. I held my breath in anticipation.

"Hey, Oliver?"

I clear my throat. "Er, Miley, yeah?" I don't know what I was expecting next from her, the most unexpected person in the world, but here it comes. I can almost hear her snarling over the phone line.

"Fuck you."

And she hung up.

--

I swear, I'm shaking. I have a million things I want to say, to yell out, to scream, but I don't even know if all _that_ will help release my emotions. Anyway, I'm a fuming cow when my mom calls me down for dinner. I trudge downstairs, hoping all my weird guy hormones will go away before I go shooting off my mouth again. But suddenly they come back in a rush as soon as I see _Jackson Stewart_, of all people, sitting down at the dinner table. Laughing.

I stop dead in my tracks. Something's not right; and I don't remember him calling to say he was coming over. He's leaning back in his chair, laughing. With my _mom_, of all people, who is bustling about the kitchen like this is a normal thing. Like Jackson comes to visit us every weekend.

"Jackson?!" I cry incredulously, when I get down to the landing. "Wh-what are you—? Aren't you at school or something?"

"Chill, dude," Jackson laughs. "In the professional college world, school's out for the summer. So for a couple months I'm chillin' out maxin', relaxin' all cool." He grins and I can hear my mom humming in the background. "I hope you don't mind—I invited myself over for dinner. My old man's on a date and you know Miley. She's a party-animal."

I sigh, settling down in a chair across from him. "Yeah. I've noticed."

Jackson raises an eyebrow. "Wait, Lilly's there. Why aren't you…?"

"Long story short," I cut him off, just as Mom is entering the premises, "we're not exactly on great terms. No offense, but your sister is such a—"

"Oh, Oliver!" Mom cries, bringing in a heaping plate of mashed potatoes. There's no way she could have possibly cooked those. I mean, my mother, _cooking_?! "Glad you could join us. Your friend Jackson just happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to stop by. Hey, did you know he's your friend Miley's brother?"

I smile weakly. "It's hard to tell."

Jackson cracks a grin. "Yeah, Mrs. Oken, even for me. Sometimes I can't figure out how I somehow share DNA with that girl." He shudders. "Creepy."

My mom takes the bait—this is getting weirder by the minute; and she isn't much of a people-person—and laughs like it's the most hysterical thing in the world. Even I have to smile. I've never been around my mom longer than ten minutes without her going psycho or leaving for work, running in her boots toward the police scanner. I have to give her some credit; she's being awfully polite.

After setting a couple more dishes on the table (seriously, WHERE did my mother get all these? God knows she can't cook to save her life—why do you think we've been living off of those TV dinners?), Mom has to take a phone call and tells us to go eat. She leaves Jackson and I in the middle of a goddamn feast, and I'm still sitting there trying to comprehend the last fifteen minutes. From Miley's rude phone call to the Jackson dinner-surprise; it's like the Stewarts are completely consuming my life.

"Damn…your mom can cook." Jackson grabs his fork and knife, gearing up for the buffet.

I snort loudly. "She can't. She doesn't know how. She can't even properly make _cereal_."

Jackson throws me this look while helping himself to the short-ribs. Yum. "Jeez. How do you 'properly' make cereal?"

"Well you first pour in the cereal, obviously…"

"No!" he interrupts. "I pour the milk first."

"The milk's supposed to come in after."

"Who are you to tell me how I make my breakfast?" he replies, laughing, and hurries back to his meal. We eat in silence—whoever cooked this, it's freaking delicious—until Jackson brings up the topic of school. I didn't really expect it, to be honest.

"So what grade are you now, Oken?" he asks, beginning to pat his belly.

"Uh, same as Miley's," I state the obvious. "Senior for another week and a half."

"Sucks," he replies, chewing the end of a chicken leg.

"Yeah. I just wanna like…get _out_ already. We already finished SATs, finals, college application crap. Can't we just graduate now? Is the ceremony really necessary?"

Jackson smiles, pondering this thought. "You're really not much of a party-goer, are ya Oliver?"

I shake my head truthfully. Not much, yeah.

"Me, well…I like parties. I even crash the ones I'm not invited to. Miley's the same, I think. We probably got it from each other." Jackson finishes his chicken bone and moves onto the macaroni salad. "Speaking of which, how's it going with her? Aside from the 'being a total bitch' thing. What happened, anyway?"

"Nothing." I sigh. At least I'm telling the whole truth here, and not just for myself, but because I trust Jackson completely. I've known him long enough, anyway. "She told me to fuck off."

He grins. "Typical. What else?"

"Nothing. She won't tell me anything. One time though, she revealed she was unhappy." I wince, remembering her exact words, the way she told me that I wouldn't understand her, I would never understand. And the way she'd said "it's complicated," the way people do when they just want you to leave them alone and go shit yourself. Whatever, as long as you weren't up in their face.

Which I was, I know. But it was because I was being a good friend. I still _am_. Despite all her efforts to ward me off, I still care. I always will.

"Unhappy?" Jackson frowns at this thought. "Why the hell would she be unhappy?"

I let out a tiny groan of frustration. I've been processing, turning over, analyzing this thought for _decades_; they could have declared and fought wars while I'd been thinking. It seems to me, and maybe to everyone else, that Miley Stewart has it all. A loving family, a handsome, rich boyfriend, the two best friends in the world. She's got all her basic necessities_ and so much more._

So why the frown?

And that's what kills me the most: the fact that she _doesn't_. Frown, I mean. She basically hides it all inside, plastering that stupid fake smile on her face, clenching her teeth 'till they bleed. And what sucks is that nobody but me seems to notice. Not Lilly, who is too busy trying to win my attention. (And, sadly, even with the choice, I can't give it to her.) Not Miley's dad, who's too lenient with his daughter to really care. Not even Jake, her boyfriend, who is good at pretending but doesn't really give shit about how Miley feels. Nobody can tell that smile on her face is Earth-littering plastic.

Well, except me. And that's what sucks even more. Miley doesn't care about me, or how I feel, or what I do. And even if she did it's stopped now, especially since I've been bugging her so much. I'm like Miley's personal housefly.

Suddenly Jackson gets a light bulb idea, banging his fist on the table. "Aha!" he cries. "I know why. It's because of that raise in allowance I've been getting from Dad since Christmas. See, he sends me money every month or so—"

I roll my eyes. He just isn't getting it. "Jackson, that isn't the point."

"—and with her dropping grades and performance marks, Miley's been losing more and more of—"

"Jackson." I sigh, willing for him to just shut up.

"…so she's just jealous! HAH!" He smiles gleefully. "God, it's always been the other way around. Miley Stewart, Daddy's perfect little angel, his favorite child, the love of his life. Even Mom! They'd spoiled her to death since she was little. And me? I'm the black sheep of this family! I'm the drop out, the loser, the nobody…"

"Jackson—"

"But look now! The tables have turned!" Jackson stands up and starts his signature dance moves; the table wobbles in its position. Jeez, so much for his so-called maturity. "Aha! I win, I weeen, I win I win I—"

"JACKSON!" I yell out, my frustration finally getting the best of me. The room goes silent. "Just…shut UP! I'm so sick of you flaunting all your glory in my face! I'm fucking glad you have a life now, Jackson, but seriously? I don't care. Okay? It's Miley I'm concerned about and you're just making everything worse. You're not being a good brother to her; maybe THAT'S why she's so damn unhappy. You ever think of that?" His eyes widen and I march out of the room without a second thought, fuming mad.

It's official. I've cracked.

* * *

**First off.. I APOLOGIZE! **

**This is probably the lamest excuse.. but yes, the school season is here. And I am now a JUNIOR in high school (dun dun dunnn!), which is considerably the hardest year yet. So.. just to be frank, don't expect frequent updates. I know, I know, I'm sorrrrrrrry! D: I'm always doing this; time management was never my greatest thing and sometimes I forget my commitments. (I'm still working on it, haha) And school is my first priority.. so, I have to take care of that first. But never fear, my darling readers! (Wow, where did THAT come from? Haha xD) I have not and WILL NOT forget this story. I love it too much and I already have this amazing outline and everything! :D I'm excited for everyone's upcoming reactions.**

**So, what did you think of the chapter? Poor Oliver. & Jackson's such an ass today, hahah. Whatever, typical Jackson Stewart behavior. And I must say, I lalaLOVE Miley in this chap. She's so independent, and she freely speaks her mind (with Oliver) hahah. I love it. Can you alll see the little somethin'-somethin' I purposely planned in there? ;) **

**Well, my lovely Moliver shippers.. next chapter is CRAZY Moliver-ness; I'll be honest. It's one of my all-time favorites! :DDDD Can't wait to hear you guyses reaction; REVIEW (it's your turn!) and MAKE 'EM BLABBERY! xD** ** I hope I gain more NEW readers after this chapter; the story's just getting good (I hope) haha! **

**Oh, and to all of last chapter's reviewers; I haven't replied to your wonderful blabbings because I've got such limited time D: But thankyouthankyouthankyou! I LOVE reading your emotional reactions! Haha. Spread the word and stay tuned! (: **


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